Speak
by RougeaufSherlock
Summary: Johnlock one-shot. John and Sherlock spend a night on the beach. TRIGGER WARNING *depression, self-harm, suicide* Constructive reviews are very much appreciated.


John sat beside Sherlock on the soft white sand. Cool water rushed over their feet, retreated slowly, and continued its pattern. The sky contrasted orange against the blue ocean.  
"Empty beach, cool breeze, orange sky, I don't think I could have asked for a better evening," said John.  
Sherlock smiled and stared out into the ocean, mesmerized momentarily by the overwhelming view. "It's strange, isn't it John, how at first the water seems too cold. You're afraid to touch it, afraid to jump in, but now look," he splashed his feet. "Every time the tide rolls in, it's like a blanket as opposed to an ice bath."  
"Yes, I suppose you're right." John dug his toes into the sand. "It feels warmer than the air around you. You don't want to leave it."  
"All with sound scientific reasons of course, but that's beside the point. I could stay here all night."  
Sherlock lay back onto the sand, and John followed suit.  
"We could make that happen."  
A pair of birds chased each other in the sky, visible by their shaded outlines, and perched on a nearby dock.  
John turned his head to find Sherlock watching them. "You seem sentimental tonight," he said, breaking Sherlock's concentration. "That's a bit out of character for you."  
Sherlock breathed in deeply, inhaling the salty sea air. "I can't place it exactly," he said. "But there is something about this beach that makes me feel… different. Do you know what I mean?"  
John inched closer to Sherlock and took his hand. "Yes. I do. I think an occasional trip here is good for you. You actually unwind and enjoy yourself, and I like this side of you."  
Sherlock wound his fingers into John's and shifted the conversation. "Full moon tonight," he said. "You can see it from behind the clouds."  
"It's kind of eerie."  
"But I imagine it will be quite beautiful once night sets in."  
"No doubt."

* * *

John and Sherlock closed the gap between them as the sun spent its last few seconds above the horizon. They counted down the last seconds before it disappeared. 5, 4, 3, 2, 1. Then darkness set in quickly afterwards, leaving only the white light of the moon to illuminate the two, occasionally blocked out by the slow-rolling clouds. Sherlock had moved his feet away from the tide and he and John now lay curled up, facing each other on the cool sand.  
"You are stunning in the moonlight, Sherlock. Your skin is radiant." John ran his fingers through Sherlock's hair. "You know, nobody can see us," he hinted.  
"Not tonight." Replied Sherlock definitively, quickly killing the mood.  
"Why not?"  
"I'm not in the mood."  
"But even you've got to admit this is the perfect time. Come on. Let me make you feel good."  
Sherlock shook his head.  
"What's wrong?" asked John.  
"Nothing," said Sherlock. "I'm just… thinking."  
"About what?"  
Sherlock was silent for a moment, contemplating whether or not he should say what was on his mind, observing John for his sincerity. Eventually he gave in.  
"Did you know when I was a child, my family and I used to spend summers on the beach?"  
"No." John was quickly interested. Sherlock apparently had an intriguing story. "Tell me more."  
"We had a cottage. It was small, two bedrooms. And back then, I had a sister."  
His words registered quickly with John. Now he was definitely interested.  
"That's news. What happened to her?"  
"She drowned." The words sent heavy waves through John's body. "On a night not much different from this,"  
John squeezed his hand. His heart immediately went out to Sherlock. "I'm so sorry to hear. That's awful," he said. "How old-?"  
"She was twelve. I was seven."  
"Right." John was at a loss for words. He guessed Sherlock had a dark past, but he never imagined something so heavy.  
After a few moments of tense silence, John spoke again. "What was she like?"  
Sherlock seemed happy to answer. He even smiled.  
"She was the only family member I've really been fond of. She was brilliant, of course, and it was actually she who sparked my interest in science."  
"That's fantastic." Said John.  
"But there was more to her than I knew at the time, and I suppose still more than I understand today."  
John put his forehead to Sherlock's. "Tell me."  
Again, Sherlock paused. He waited and thought about it.  
"If it's something you need to say, say it. It's okay."  
Sherlock sighed. "Understand, she was a good person."  
John nodded. "I will."  
Sherlock took a deep breath. "At my age, I didn't understand the marks on her wrists or the real reasons she closed herself away so much. When I saw her, she always seemed happy. She fooled everyone into believing it- including our parents, but I had my suspicions. One summer evening, our parents got into a fight, and father walked out. When it was dark, and mind you, she was very quiet about it, she left the cottage, slipped soundlessly out of the bedroom, and walked out to the ocean. I realized only too late. The last I remember of her is how happy she looked under the full moon. She waved to me and smiled, then swam out."  
John was speechless.  
"Sherlock, I-"  
"You don't have to say anything." Sherlock said. "I've moved on. It's been thirty years." But the look in his eyes told John otherwise. He sat up and stared out over the moonlit ocean. John did the same.  
"Have you ever told anyone before?" asked John.  
Sherlock shook his head.  
"How do you feel?"  
"I don't know." His words were short.  
John took his hand and squeezed it. "She sounds wonderful."  
Sherlock looked to the sky. Looked to the full moon. "She was."  
"What was her name?" Sherlock looked back down, out again to the ocean.  
"Christine."  
"That's beautiful," complimented John.  
Sherlock rubbed his watering eyes and turned away again so John wouldn't see. The rolling sounds of the tide calmed the silence. John looked away, allowing Sherlock his privacy.  
"John?" said Sherlock.  
"Yes?"  
"Your offer from earlier. I think I'll take it now."  
John smiled.  
They spent the rest of the night clinging closely together. They let the waves crawl up and blanket them because it felt warm, and because it was comforting. Cold sweat and saltwater on their skin, all reflected in the moonlight, and loving, almost relieved smiles on their faces. It's okay to remember. It's okay to speak.


End file.
